


Not A Joke

by caffeinated_pens



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Birthday Party, Confused Mycroft Holmes, Cuddling, Flirting, Friendship, Greg is Sweet, Insecure Mycroft, John Is So Done, John is A Lot Of Things, John is Not Amused, John is a Good Friend, M/M, Making Out, Mary Ships It, Matchmaker Mary, Matchmaker Sherlock, Mistletoe, Molly's birthday, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is a Softie, Oblivious Mycroft, Protective Greg, Sad Greg, Valentine's Day, background Johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 07:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13699524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinated_pens/pseuds/caffeinated_pens
Summary: Some Mystrade Valentine'sStarring:Mycroft as: ObliviousGreg as: Flirtatious SweetheartMolly as: Happy Confused Birthday GirlSherlock as: Reluctant MatchmakerMary as: Excited ShipperAnd, as always, John as: Voice of Reason





	Not A Joke

“I have a hard time believing that that is a real thing, Inspector.”

 

“Come on, I’m telling you!  It’s a thing!  Ask anyone here!”  Greg gestured around the room.  God forbid there be a party anywhere beside Baker Street.  “My buddies and I used to laugh about it all the time at uni!  February is worse than December!”

 

“This is utterly nonsensical.  I’m not my brother, you know.  I have a decent understanding of traditions and popular culture.”  He rolled his eyes.  Clearly, like everyone else, the DI was not above having a good laugh at Mycroft’s expense.

 

“It makes sense though, right?  I mean, why at Christmas time?  Valentine’s makes so much more sense!”  Mycroft internally cursed Molly Hooper for having a birthday on the thirteenth.

 

“Whatever lie he’s trying to scam you with, I want no part of it.”  A very tipsy John Watson pushed passed the duo on his way to the kitchen, despite Greg’s protests.

 

“It’s a real thing!”

 

“I call rubbish on whatever it is!” Mary giggled.

 

“What are we talking about?”  The birthday girl approached the small crowd that was growing around the two men.

 

“Nothing.”  Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 

“Okay, wait,” John smiled, re-entering, “I think… we need to put some cash on this?”

 

“Will you all please keep it down!”  A loud groan came from Sherlock’s room.  Of course he’d be ignoring the festivities.

 

      “Shut up, ya prick!  It's your friend's birthday for crying out loud!”  John began a very loud, heated, back and forth argument with his boyfriend.  Leaving the doctor too preoccupied to focus on the older men’s discussion.  

 

        The others all stood awkwardly till Sherlock walked out with a small package wrapped in brown paper.  He handed it to the pathologist, kissed her on the cheek, and stormed back to his room.  This left Molly Hooper blushing, beaming, and certainly too distracted to pay mind to what Mycroft and Greg were saying, this left the only a certain bubbling blonde to pay attention.

 

         “So, what's going on?” Mary pried with a grin.

 

         “Please tell Mycroft that Valentine’s mistletoe is a thing.”

She laughed for several minutes before she responded.  This earned both her and Greg a glare and eye roll from the British Government.  “Definitely,” she smirked, obviously quite inebriated.  “It’s like normal mistletoe, but the leaves are painted pink.”   Mycroft had had enough of this.  He huffed and walked out to the hallway.

 

John snorted a little as the auburn haired official left.  “Pay up, Molly.”  He took his money with a bitter look on his face and turned to Greg, the lovesick silver fox was going to require some maintenance after that rejection.

 

***

 

Mycroft sat alone in the hall, sipping a bottle of wine he had snagged on his way out.  He was surprised there was any left, as the others all seemed to be mostly intoxicated at this point.  The jokes hadn’t been funny when he was in school and they weren’t now.  The asking him out as a prank or as a setup, the leading him on just to laugh in his face.  As much as he hated to admit it, these things still managed to hurt.  Especially since, though he would never tell or act on it, he had… fancied… the DI for some time.

 

He took a long drink as he heard the door open.  “Hey, Myc,” A feminine voice said.

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“Whatever,” Mary muttered, taking a seat next to him.  “Why don’t you just kiss him?”

 

“You don’t understand, Rose.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”  She repeated his words back to him.  “It’s Mary now, remember?”  She smiled a little.

 

“Right,” he nodded and sighed.  “I don’t do romance, you know that.”

 

She shrugged.  “Just have sex with him then.”

 

“I- I just need to be alone for a minute.”  He tried to turn his lips up weakly.

 

“Right,” she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, squeezing his shoulder supportively as she left.

 

***

 

“I fucked up,” Greg muttered as Molly and John comforted him.  “I’m an idiot.”

 

“You’re not an idiot,” John comforted him.  “It’s Mycroft Holmes we’re talking about here, he’s…”

 

“Incredible.  God I had to ruin everything.”

 

“Greg…”

 

Molly tried to put his arm around him but he shrugged it off.

 

“No… Forget about it….  I’m sorry I ruined your birthday party.”

 

That was enough for John.

 

“John wai-”

 

The blonde-haired doctor stormed out of the room angrily, slamming the door behind him.  He opened his mouth to speak before he saw the British Government sitting on the stairs, hunched over miserably with his hands in his face.  He was sipping on a bottle of wine that John was quite sure he would’ve ended up finishing.  The blogger closed his mouth before, reopening it, searching for the right thing to say before responding with a drawn out “What.  The hell.”

 

Mycroft looked nervous. “I…”

 

“No, honestly, I want to know.  What was all of that about?”

 

“It’s none of your business.”

 

“Tell me.  Do you have a reason, or are you just being an arse?”

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“Just storming out like that?  Not saying anything?  Poor Greg is miserable, worried you’re going to have him killed or something!  Not to mention he’s really hurt.  If you don’t like him back-”

 

“What?”

 

John took a long sigh.  He really didn’t want to be having this conversation.  “Listen…” He exhaled.  “If you’re not interested in Greg, which you clearly aren’t, just tell him that, and tell him there are no hard feelings.  Okay?”

 

“H-He’s interested in me?”

“What the bloody hell do you call what literally just happened?!  That, Mycroft, is what normal, non-robotic humans call flirting!”   
  


“I thought-”

 

They were cut off by the door being aggressively jerked open.  “Get in,” the very disgruntled consulting detective groaned.  The other two men shuffled awkwardly to find the others all standing in a row, except for Mrs. Hudson, who was standing by the door.

 

“Sherlock dear, what’s going on?” the old woman questioned.  He grumbled in response.

 

“Sherlock,” Lestrade growled warningly, “what the the hell is this?”

 

“Lestrade, are you, for whatever idiotic reasons you may have, attracted to my brother?”

 

“Yes, you bloody prat, clearly!”  The inspector fumed,

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Mycroft, are you attracted to Lestrade?”

 

“Stop it, Sherlock!  Why are you doing this, he made it very clear-”

 

Mycroft interrupted the DI’s words with a slight nod and a meek reply.  “Yes.”

 

“Wait, rea-”  Lestrade’s mouth dropped slightly.

 

“Promise it isn’t a joke?”

 

“Wha- Of course not.  S’not a joke.  Promise.”

 

Mycroft let that impulsive side that died long ago take over, he reached over and kissed the silver-haired subject of his affection.  That wonderful, god-like creature he had admired for so long.  He let their lips brush together lightly, wanting so much more but restricting himself.  He forced himself to pull away, looking at Greg with uncertainty.

 

“The way I feel about you could never be a joke,” Greg breathed quietly.

 

John smirked a little as Sherlock rolled his eyes and tried not to look pleased with himself.  “Well then, let’s get back to the party!”

 

***

 

They resumed the festivities, things becoming less tense as people began to make conversation.  They became more and more inebriated as the night went on, all laughing, and singing, and eating.  It had been the first time in a long while that Mycroft felt this happy.

 

Mrs. Hudson had gone downstairs to sleep eventually, but the other six remained giggling and stuffing themselves with cake.  There were games of spin the bottle suggested, and suggestions of games of spin the bottle rejected.  There were games of spin the bottle consisting of only Mycroft and Greg suggested by people who were not Mycroft or Greg, and said suggestions shot down by more people who were not Mycroft and Greg (Sherlock).

 

“Hmm…” Molly smiled.  “Never have I ever!”

 

“That game is boring,” the consulting detective groaned.

 

Greg chuckled as the others all bickered, pulling Mycroft in close to him.  “I think I'm gonna turn in.”

 

     “I believe I might join you,” he murmured tiredly.

 

       “Get a room!” Molly giggled.

 

       “We might do just that,” Greg winked, standing up and stretching.  “While this has been fun…”

 

        Mycroft yawned.  He let his head nuzzle into the crook of the detective inspector’s neck as Lestrade planted a kiss to his forehead.  His head was clouded with alcohol as he said his goodbyes and stumbled out in Gregory’s arms.

 

“Should I get us a cab?”

 

“No need, I’ll have a car arranged.”

 

“Mmm, Mr. Fancy Pants.  Your place or mine?”  He grinned charmingly as he pulled Mycroft in, pressing their lips together.

 

“Yours is closer mine is neater,” he groaned.

 

“Mine it is.”  He let out a low growl, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist, kissing him harder as the other man reached for his phone to text for the car.  Greg smirked watching Mycroft scramble to text while kissing him.

 

It only took a few minutes for the car to arrive.  Greg had enough practice to know how to slam the government official up against it to suck on his neck for a moment before helping him in.  He resumed crashing his lips against Mycroft’s once they were sprawled out across the back seats, there was a privacy divide between them and the driver.  Mycroft pulled away.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“I-”  He paused, hands lingering over Greg’s collar.  “I need to know what this is.”

 

“This-” Greg shivered, hands on the official’s hips, “is whatever you want it to be, gorgeous.”

 

“I don’t often go in for…  Serious relationships often.  Or ever, actually.”

 

Lestrade frowned.  “You’re not- ?”

 

“God no.” Mycroft couldn’t help laugh a little.  “I just have never been in a real relationship.  One night stands and casual partners is all.”

 

“Right,” he nodded.  “So… We can get back to my place and…  And in the morning, we can talk.”

 

“Agreed.”  Mycroft let his lips meet the inspector’s again.  His fingers pried at the collar of Greg’s shirt, not reaching for the buttons, just teasing.  He sucked on Lestrade’s neck, hearing the other man moan as the car rolled into place in front of his apartment complex.

 

He prayed no one was around to see Greg practically carry him into the building.  His arms around the DI’s neck and legs around his waist.  Greg could barely see as he shoved Mycroft against the wall of the elevator.

 

“You sure you want to do this?”

 

Mycroft nodded vigorously as he was pinned to the bed.  “Yes, yes...”

  
  


***

  
  


Mycroft woke up the next morning in a dingy flat, taken aback at the sight of the man next to him.  Greg’s arm was thrown haphazardly around him as he snored happily.  Mycroft felt a grin breaking out across his face, remembering the night before.

 

“Mornin’ gorgeous.”

 

Mycroft felt himself blushing.  “Good morning.”

“Hungry?”

 

“I- No, I’m fine.”

 

“You sure?  I make a mean omelette.”  He pressed a kiss to the British Government’s lips, cupping his cheek lightly and letting his fingers mill through his hair.  “God, you’re beautiful, y’know that?”

 

Mycroft blushed again, looking away.  “Thank you.”

 

“I mean it.”

 

“You are as well.  Moreso.  You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever set eyes on.”

 

“Well thank you.”  Greg smiled, sitting up, chuckling a bit as Mycroft ogled him.  “I really mean it though, Mycroft.  You’re gorgeous.”

 

He was blushing hardcore at this point.  He had forgotten what it felt like to have someone compliment him.

 

Greg pulled him in close, he pressed Mycroft’s head to his bare chest and the official gladly nuzzled in.  He planted a kiss to the ginger’s head.  “I’m gonna go make breakfast.”

 

“N-No.”  Mycroft flinched.  “I-I need you stay for just a little while, just need…”

 

Greg knew Mycroft was too embarrassed to say he needed to be held.  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”  He ran his hands through the auburn hair as the other man curled into him.  He planted kisses on Mycroft’s shoulders, hearing him sigh.  He couldn’t believe this was real.  He wondered if Mycroft had fantasized about this as much as he had.

 

Mycroft felt himself relax, letting down his guard for the first time in a while.  He let himself feel protected by the other man’s arms wrapped around him.  Let himself drift off as Gregory hugged him close.   He smiled and sighed, feeling comfortable.

 

“I’ve got you, gorgeous.”  Greg stroked Mycroft’s back, trying to help him relax.  He had always wondered what it would be like to comfort the British Government.  It was incredible, feeling like Mycroft needed him, like the two of them could just be alone and happy.  And they were.

 

“You promise this isn’t a joke?”

 

“I promise.  Not a joke.  Never a joke.”

“Happy Valentine’s day, Gregory.”  
  
“Happy Valentines, gorgeous.”


End file.
